Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (33 page)

"In truth," Rachel said, reaching out to touch Shona's cheek with gentle fingertips, "he was no worse than I expected. I suppose tis time to reduce the swelling and see to your healing now."

The room went silent.

"What?" Shona asked quietly.

Rachel shrugged. Perhaps it was always her ladylike demeanor that made Shona forget her mischievous side. "I did not think it would do any harm if I allowed your wounds to look their most colorfully hideous for a few days."

"Ye mean to say ye purposefully did nothing to heal them?" Shona asked, appalled.

"Not atall," Rachel countered. "I made certain they did not turn septic while I purposefully made them look worse."

"Rachel!" Shona exclaimed. "How could ye?"

"I didna like that William fellow," Rachel said, and flippantly pattered toward the window to let in the night air. For a moment the shutter caught, seemingly on a bit of rust, but soon it swung free.

She turned back to her friends with a shrug. "I had a bad feeling about him."

"And it turns out she was right," Sara said. "Any man who would leave ye because of a few wee bruises does not have the fortitude ye need in a mate."

"A few wee bruises!" Shona cried, knowing she had thought much the same thing herself, but certain she had a right to be indignant nevertheless. "Yesterday I scared Maggie's wolf when I but glanced at him."

"He is not a wolf," Sara argued, looking offended.

“I would
not
allow my daughter to wander about with a wolf."

Shona snorted. "Ye are just as bad as Rachel," she said. “The two of ye acting like fine, swooning damsels when underneath it all ye are a pair of conniving rats."

"Rats who saved ye from a frightful marriage," Rachel said.

"Rats who will make it so that my father marries me off to someone as fat as King Henry but lacks the charm."

"Oh, aye," Liam said. "Roderic has always been the sort to torture his only daughter just for sport."

"Whenever he can unwind himself from your little finger."

Shona scowled at them all in turn. Being the youngest in this group had always been trying.

Despite her momentous strides at reaching maturity, they would forever see her as a child.

"I'll have ye know that I am not atall the spoiled lass ye once thought me."

"Nay?" Rachel asked.

"Nay. I have a child to look after now."

"Kelvin!" Liam said suddenly. "That reminds me, I have a missive from the Hawk for ye."

"From Hawk?" Shona asked, hurrying toward him. "Liam, how could ye forget? We were just speaking of the king."

Liam lifted his pouch and pulled out a rolled parchment. Shona reached for it, but he pulled it beyond her grasp.

"If the truth be known, I thought it best to wait to give it to ye, for it looked as if ye had worries enough when I first saw ye."

"Liam!" She scowled at him. "This is not a game we play here. This probably concerns the king himself."

"My point exactly," Liam said, scowling back. "I dunna think it wise to get too involved in that intrigue. I tell ye, the people that surround young James are looking for heads to adorn the pikes atop Stirling Castle's turrets. Never is a man more secure than when he captures the king's would-be assassin."

"Are ye saying they might accuse
me
of trying to murder the king?"

“I am saying ye should watch your back, Shona. What say ye, Rachel?" he asked, turning to the healer. "Is she hale enough to read this missive?"

"Ye think there is some way to keep it from her, now that she knows about it?" Rachel asked.

"I could turn her into a toad."

"Ye would be lucky to turn a toad into a toad," Rachel countered. "Give her the note, before she decides to beat ye senseless."

"Ye've always had a way of making a man feel like a man."

"That would take a man to begin with."

"Cease!" Shona demanded. "And give me the letter, Liam."

He handed it over with a grin.

Shona broke the seal quickly, but suddenly there were three people looking over her shoulder.

"Have ye no shame?" she asked, rolling the parchment to glare at them. "Tis a private letter to me."

"What could the Hawk possibly say that he would not want us to know?" Rachel asked.

"Mayhap tis of a personal nature," Sara said. "Mayhap she and the Hawk share something they dunna want us privy to."

"Shona!" Liam chided. "He is your mother's half-brother. What are ye thinking? Twill never work. Even now I can hear the Pope crying consanguinity."

"Oh, shut up, all of ye!" Shona cried.

They drew back as a unit.

"Testy, isn't she?" Liam asked.

"Mayhap she thinks herself too good for the likes of us, now that she consorts with kings and such."

Shona put her fingers to her temples. "You're giving me a sore head."

Even Rachel laughed, but at the same time she was hustling the others from the room.

"We will leave ye in peace for a spell, then, Shona, but I warn ye, I will return yet this night to treat your wounds." She stopped in the doorway behind the other two. "And I dunna want any whining about the taste."

"I dunna whine," Shona said, but Rachel only laughed as she shut the door.

Shona unrolled the parchment and read quickly.

From his hiding place where he dangled from the stone beside Shona's window, Dugald peeked through the shutter and saw her face go pale.

"Dear Lord," she whispered, setting the parchment to the flame of the nearest candle, "not the queen!"

The following morning, Shona found Kelvin just past the drawbridge on an escarpment of the Gael Burn, tossing stones in the water in a test of strength with his friends. Old Magnus sat on a tree stump crudely sawed into the shape of a chair and watched the boys play.

"Kelvin, I need to speak to ye," she called.

He came at a run, his bare feet muddy and his smile wide.

She knelt in front of him, feeling a rush of love. "I've had news from the Hawk."

The boy's small face became somber then he glanced at the old man. Magnus's eyes were closed and his head drooped in sleep. "The king. Is he—"

"The king is fine. But James..." She paused for a moment, wondering how much to tell him and deciding to give him the littlest possible information for now. "King James has requested our presence."

They stared at each other for a silent moment.

"When do we leave?" Kelvin asked.

Shona smiled at him; then, rising to her feet, she put her arm around his shoulders. "I know how ye love it here in the Highlands. Ye are not too disappointed that we must leave so soon?"

"Tis our duty," he said solemnly. "He is, after all, our king, even if he is a mite spoiled."

"Aye." She laughed a little, relieved to know he was so willing to do what he must. "He is that.

Hawk says His Majesty but wishes for us to help him pass the time. We will not leave until the day after tomorrow. Twill take till then to prepare our retinue for travel. For now, ye may return to your play."

He turned back to the stream, but his expression was somber now, a testimony to the life he had led before meeting her, the life that had taught him hardships come to all. Shona's heart lurched, and she longed to see him smile again

"Oh, and Kelvin," she said.

"Aye?"

"The queen will be arriving at Blackburn shortly after we do."

His smile broke out again. "How long will she be staying?''

"Tis difficult to say," she said. "But ye know how she adores her son."

He laughed out loud. The sound was charming and bright and floated over the morning like summer clouds as he turned back to his play.

Shona stood by the rustling burn. There were a hundred details she should see to, but just now watching Kelvin play seemed the most urgent, so she settled herself down on the bank to watch.

After a moment, Magnus awoke with a soft snort. They sat in companionable silence for a spell, watching as the boys raced to catch a small piece of bark as it spiraled downstream.

Soaked and laughing, Kelvin came away with it in his hands.

"He's a clever lad, that one," Magnus said.

"Kelvin?" Shona asked, turning toward the old man.

"Aye. And kindly. Twas he who helped me out to this spot in the shade."

"He has a good heart," Shona said.

"That he does." Silence settled in, serenaded by the sweet rustle of water. "He reminds me of someone, though I dunna know who."

Shona smiled gently. "I suspect he is like most young lads, though he seems special to me."

"They are each special, each in his own way. He adores ye, ye know."

"The sentiment is returned twofold."

"I heard the lads talking, praising your beauty," Magnus said.

"It must have been before 1 was tromped by a horse," Shona responded, but when she touched her cheek she could tell the swelling was greatly reduced from the previous day. Whatever horrible concoctions Rachel had smeared on her face and forced her to drink, they must be doing the job.

"True beauty goes far beyond the surface of the skin," Magnus said. "Young Kelvin knows that.

The other lads, they said ye are so beautiful because of the magical amulet ye wear around your neck."

She put her hand to her chest, suddenly nervous. Did everyone know of the dragon?

"But your Kelvin said nay, twas the beauty of your soul that shows through on your face."

Magnus chuckled, the sound rusty and rumbling. "Still, he said, he wouldna mind having a magical dragon himself."

She dropped her hand away. "Tis a lad's fierce imagination only, I fear," she said. "The pendant is not magical atall, only beautiful."

"Of course," Magnus agreed. "But I have been thinking I might craft one for him out of wood if I could but get a good look at it."

"At Dragonheart?"

The old man appeared surprised, though he seemed to be looking right past her. In the clear morning light she could see that his eyes were as cloudy as watered milk.

"Ye have named the pendant?" he asked.

She laughed, feeling foolish for her fears. He was, after all, a decrepit old man, lame, nearly blind, and wanting nothing more than to give a gift to a lad who had done him a kindness.

"I did not actually name the dragon," she said.

"Someone else, then?"

She scowled as she drew the pendant into her hand. "I dunna know, exactly. It seems as if he had the name long before I knew of him."

"Him?"

She laughed at her own foolishness. "Tis my way, I fear, to imbue mere objects with personalities. I have named my favorite chair 'Miller,' for it has arms like the man who grinds the grain."

The old man chuckled. "Tis little wonder the lad is fascinated by anything ye wear, for ye surely must make everything seem magical."

"Tis not magic," she repeated.

Magnus turned back to gaze toward the boys again, his bent hands placed, one atop another on the head of his staff. "In truth, lass, I dunna believe in magic. When ye have seen as many years as I, ye find ye believe in naught but hard work and good luck."

"And in God Almighty, of course."

He turned to her, his white eyes disconcerting. "Of course," he said. "And in kind wee lads who have a mind to help old men. Might I take a look at the dragon so as to whittle a rough replica for the boy?"

She paused.

“Ye dunna need to fear that I will run off with it, for I believe ye could best me in a footrace."

Shona laughed. “I guess there would be no reason to deny ye." Slipping Dragonheart from her neck, she approached the old man.

"Shona!"

“What?'' She jerked around to find Liam only a few feet behind her.

"I've been calling to ye for half an hour. Didn't ye hear me?"

"Nay, I was speaking to Magnus." She turned toward the old man, but the tree stump was suddenly empty.

Lifting her gaze, she saw his bent figure turn into the woods and disappear.

"Who was that?" Liam asked, gazing into the trees.

Shona tightened her fingers over Dragonheart, and felt almost as if she were awakening from a dream. "Just an old man."

"What?"

She drew herself from her reverie with a start. "God's wrath, Liam, ye look as if ye've seen a ghost. What troubles ye?"

He turned his gaze quickly to hers. "Why is Dragonheart out?"

"Magnus wanted to—"

"Magnus?"

"The old man. He wanted to craft a replica of the dragon for Dugald. But ye must have scared him off. Ye'd scare a troll with that scowl. What ails ye?"

"Shona," He relaxed a bit, becoming more himself. "Have I not warned ye to keep the dragon to yourself?"

"He is just a harmless old man," she said, ascending the bank and heading for the bridge.

"Aye, well some might have thought the same of..." His voice trailed off.

"Of who?" She stopped to stare at him.

He shifted his eyes sideways, as if expecting a winged demon to come flying from the woods.

"Of Warwick," he murmured.

"The dark wizard is dead, Liam. Killed by Boden's blade. Warwick will bother ye no more."

"Shh. Dunna say his name aloud."

"Are ye still losing sleep over him?" she asked, feigning concern as she touched his forehead with her palm. "Mayhap I should ask Rachel to give ye something to ease your nights."

"Aye, Rachel would be happy indeed to fix me one of her witchy remedies—mayhap a spot of hemlock." He darkened his scowl. "Speaking of old horny, here comes the she devil herself," Liam said. He glanced over Shona's shoulder, and Shona followed his gaze.

But she only saw Rachel approach. Like a dark-haired angel she was, as beautiful as the dark waters of Loch Ness.

"I will never understand your feud," she said. But when she glanced at Liam again she saw that his gaze remained fixed on her cousin. "Liam?"

He stood absolutely immobile, every muscle tensed.

"Liam?"

"What?" He came out of his private thoughts with a start.

She blinked at him. "What's wrong with ye?"

"Nothing!"

“Ye were staring at Rachel as if ye were transfixed—''